


Our Mutual Friend

by celeste9



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Animal Transformation, Friendship, Gen, Team Dynamics, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-28 12:12:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5090255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celeste9/pseuds/celeste9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times the Avengers trusted Bruce (and one time he trusted himself).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Mutual Friend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deinonychus_1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deinonychus_1/gifts).



> Happy birthday to deinonychus_1! You have the dubious honor of being the recipient of the very first birthday fic I've actually managed to finish this year, lol! It's not Atlantis but hopefully Bruce is the next best thing? *g*

1.

After New York, Bruce hadn’t been planning on staying. The Avengers thing was all well and good, and, sure, it had felt nice to be part of something again, to finally do something good, but the whole team thing wasn’t for him. It couldn’t be, for obvious reasons. The Other Guy didn’t play well with others - as Thor and Natasha would no doubt attest to.

Bruce had hung around for a while because… Well, because of Tony, mostly. It was hard to say no to Tony, and it felt good to have someone to bounce ideas off of again, someone who shared similar interests, someone who might be a friend. If Bruce were in a position to have friends.

But it was time to move on. Bruce always moved on.

Which was why Tony trying to make him stay in a rather more permanent fashion was annoying. “Come live in the Tower. I’ve got space.”

It had become a now familiar routine but it was getting harder to keep saying no. Tony was maddeningly persistent when it came to getting what he wanted. “You do realize that I count as two roommates, not one.”

“Like I said. Lots of space.”

“And there’s always the possibility that I’ll throw you into a wall if you eat the last Pop-Tart.”

Tony nodded sagely. “Duly noted. I’ll keep the pantry stocked. Or tell someone else to do it. Did I mention you get your own floor?”

“Tony--”

“You’ve seen my workshop, you’ve seen the labs. Do you honestly think you can find better anywhere on the planet? I’ll give you your own lab; you can design it to your specifications.”

“And if it ends up a bunch of broken glass?”

Tony shrugged. “Then we’ll fix it. Pretty sure I can afford to cover your damages.”

What was really bad was the fact that Bruce was tempted. No, he was more than tempted. He wanted to say yes. He wanted it more than he’d wanted anything for a long time. (Well, more than anything that wasn’t ‘stop being the Hulk’, anyway.) He wanted to be Tony’s friend and to have all of Tony’s vast resources at his disposal. He wanted to do good; he wanted to remember how it felt to be working for something that was important. He wanted to be a scientist again and he wanted to see if maybe Tony wouldn’t be his only friend. He wanted to stick around for Natasha’s geeky sense of humor and Clint’s sarcasm, Steve’s unexpected sass and Thor’s enthusiasm.

There was a part of him that even liked the sound of ‘Bruce Banner, Avenger’.

But that was stupid, right? It was stupid. 

Tony looked deep into Bruce’s eyes and put on his most serious expression. “Bruce, will you please move into my place and be my platonic life partner so we can do lots of cool science stuff together? And possibly make things explode?”

“Well, when you put it that way,” Bruce said.

And that was how Bruce stayed in New York and got his own floor in Stark - no, Avengers Tower.

2.

The baseball game Steve was entranced by and Bruce was feigning interest in went to a commercial. Before Bruce could say he was going to get something to eat and use it as an excuse to disappear, Steve said, “I need you to be on a panel at the Avengers convention PR’s been arranging. Actually, two panels.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“Then I’ll say it again. I need you to--”

“Okay, okay, I heard you. I just think it’s a terrible idea.”

“Noted. May I ask why?”

Bruce just looked at Steve.

“Right, right, big crowds, lots of rambunctious strangers, lots of noise.”

“Not exactly the kind of situation you’d want an accident in.”

Now it was Steve’s turn to adopt the ‘oh, please’ expression. “You really think you’d Hulk out because some little kid tells you he likes Iron Man better than the Hulk?”

“I think any little kid who told me that would be displaying a very poor sense of judgment.” Bruce was only half kidding.

“And I think you’re selling yourself short. You’ve displayed an amazing sense of self-control since I met you.”

“You really want to play the faith game and risk thousands of civilian lives?”

“Yeah, I do,” Steve said, this completely serene expression on his face.

“Well, that’s just plain idiotic.”

Ignoring Bruce’s comment, Steve said, “You know why I want to play the faith game and risk thousands of civilian lives? Because I don’t believe we’re putting them at risk at all. You aren’t a liability, Bruce. You’re our friend, and you’re an Avenger, and people should get the chance to see you as you are, to see you as we see you.”

Bruce looked away from Steve’s almost uncomfortably earnest face. He was touched in spite of himself, though he wasn’t quite sure what he had done to make Steve feel so strongly. He could admit to himself that he was afraid, that he was afraid of what could happen, of what he might do. There was a reason he tended to avoid crowds and unfamiliar situations, and it wasn’t because he was kind of a homebody.

Well, not just that.

“You aren’t going to let me say no, are you?”

Steve shook his head. “I have a long list of compelling arguments I’m going to use to convince you. Do you want to hear them?’

“Not really.”

“Good, because it would take a long time and I’d like to see the end of this game. Besides, if you still weren’t convinced, I was going to use the ‘I’m Captain America and you have to follow my orders’ card.”

“Seems fair.” It was virtually impossible to say no to Steve when he was being Captain America, but it wasn’t so bad because he didn’t abuse the privilege. In any case, there was something inherently trustworthy and rousing about Steve. He made you want to do what he asked and then thank him for the opportunity.

“I could start with that, if you want.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Bruce met Steve’s gaze firmly. If he did this, it was going to be his way. “I’m going to be in charge of all Hulk-related security and contingency plans.”

“Agreed.”

After a second of hesitation, Bruce nodded. He knew Steve would take this seriously and that was the only reason he was agreeing. “Okay,” he said. “So what sort of panels are we talking about?” Now that he’d said yes, he needed to know what he was getting himself into.

Steve’s grin was not the most reassuring sight Bruce had ever seen.

3.

The worst part of missions was the waiting. Waiting to see if there would be a Code Green, waiting to see if his teammates needed him - not him, the Hulk. He often felt like the most useless Avenger, the one whose cons far outweighed his pros, the only one whose superhero identity literally belonged to someone else entirely.

Bruce paced back and forth, anxious, not sure what he wanted. Did he want to be stuck waiting here like the useless lump he was, or did he want to have to let the Other Guy out so he could do something? It felt like a lose-lose situation, honestly. Sitting and doing nothing while his teammates flung themselves into danger sucked, quite frankly, but on the other hand, letting the Other Guy out to play wasn’t exactly a state of affairs Bruce relished.

It still felt odd, calling himself an Avenger, being part of a team, knowing that _the Hulk_ was referred to as a hero. (Mostly. Not all the media outlets were sold on him, and neither was the entirety of the American public, friendly appearances at conventions or not.) He wasn’t sure if realizing that the Avengers trusted him, trusted the Hulk, to have their backs, was actually a good thing or not. He still feared the day when it all went to hell. He woke up in a sweat sometimes after nightmares of the Other Guy getting out of control, chafing against his leash, deciding the hero business wasn’t for him, turning on them, smashing the city, killing his teammates.

Bruce wouldn’t be able to stop it. That was the part that made him sick.

He was building a life here for himself but it still felt temporary. It felt like a placeholder until the falling out happened. It would happen. It was only a matter of time. Bruce knew he was fooling himself even to try but the problem was that he was… He was happier than he’d been in a long, long while, and that was a difficult feeling to let go of.

In an instant Bruce’s train of thought was shattered by an incoming message from the field.

“Code Green! We need you, big guy!”

Closing his eyes, Bruce said, “Status?” and curled his hand into a fist, keeping the Other Guy at bay just a little longer.

Bruce took it back. The worst part of missions was when they did turn into a Code Green.

4.

Bruce answered his phone when it started ringing for the fourth time. It was Pepper and Bruce knew that she wouldn’t bother him this persistently while he was in his lab unless it was important. “Pepper?”

Sounding as frazzled as Pepper ever sounded, she said, “I’m sorry, Bruce, but can you come up to the penthouse? I need a favor.”

“On my way.”

He found Pepper standing by the floor to ceiling windows, dressed for work but with one unusual accessory. A brown tabby cat was nestled against her chest, purring loudly. “Oh, Bruce, thank God.”

“When did you get a cat?”

“This morning. His name’s Tony.”

Bruce looked at the cat again. The cat looked back at him. “No. Tell me it isn’t what I’m thinking because that’s just… My life does not need to be any weirder than it already is, okay?”

“It’s what you’re thinking.”

Bruce took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m not sure I want to ask what happened.”

Pepper was stroking Tony’s fur, seemingly without thought. He was likely shedding all over her expensive wardrobe. “Better not to, probably.”

“How are we going to fix it?”

“Working on it. Thor’s helping. You might be surprised how many times he’s seen things like this happen.”

“I’m not, actually.”

Pepper smiled faintly. “You’re welcome to go and see what they’re working on but I’d prefer to keep Tony away from it for now, unless they expressly need him. He was… getting in the way.”

Tony meowed, affronted.

“For now, just watch him. Please? I’m--” Pepper checked the time. “I’m half an hour late to a meeting I called and I’d rather not leave him with anyone but you.”

There was something oddly touching about that, but still. “Does he really need to be left with anyone? He’s a cat.” Wasn’t that the point of cats? You left them alone all day and they were perfectly content?

“He may be a cat, but he’s still Tony.”

For his part, Tony looked particularly pleased with himself, even for a cat. He let himself be unceremoniously dumped from Pepper’s arms into Bruce’s and promptly began kneading his paws against Bruce’s skin.

Pepper gave Bruce’s shoulder a brief squeeze and then walked swiftly toward the elevator. “Thank you, Bruce, you’re a lifesaver.”

“I’m not really a cat person,” Bruce called out, but Pepper was already gone. “Or an anything person, actually,” he said, eyeing Tony, who just rubbed his face against Bruce’s cheek.

“This is disturbing on so many levels,” Bruce said. 

5.

“Clint needs assistance,” Thor’s firm voice intoned in Bruce’s ear, over the comm. “I am bringing him to you.”

“What? Thor--” Bruce’s plea for details went unnoticed but he had barely opened up the back of the Quinjet before Thor was landing softly just outside of it. 

Thor had Clint in a fireman’s carry, made awkward by the way Clint was struggling with him. “We have arrived. Here is Doctor Banner.”

“Yeah, I got it, put me down, Jesus H. Christ,” Clint said, nearly jumping out of Thor’s grip. One arm hung limply and Clint’s face was pale beneath some smudged dirt.

Nodding at them both, Thor said, “I must return, our friends will still have need of me. Take care of him.” In an instant he was gone, soaring away gracefully.

Bruce eyed Clint. “That’s dislocated.”

“Wow, thanks, glad I had you to tell me that,” Clint said, pain making him irritated. 

“I thought you wanted my help?”

Clint pushed past him to dump his bow and quiver and sit down in one of the chairs, closing his eyes and wincing. “Just take care of this, will you? Hurts like a fucker.”

Hesitating, Bruce approached Clint and palpated his shoulder as gently as he could. It certainly didn’t take a genius to see the joint was out of place. Nothing appeared broken, though, which was a plus. Clint had been through worse, and he would doubtless go through worse in the future. It wasn’t exactly a formula for good health to be an Avenger without superpowers. Or without a high tech suit.

“You can put it back in?”

“I… I can,” Bruce said.

“Do it then. I’m ready.”

Still Bruce hesitated. Relocating a shoulder wasn’t difficult, per se, but it came with the risk of unintentional damage and it wasn’t the sort of thing Bruce had had a lot of practice doing. Clint’s arm, his hands and fingers, had a value that couldn’t be calculated. Bruce wasn’t sure he wanted this sort of responsibility. Actually, he knew he didn’t.

Still, the sooner they did this, the better, and their friends were still out there. Clint wasn’t going to wait for a med evac, not for a dislocated shoulder.

“You gonna make me do it myself?”

“That’s not a good idea,” Bruce said and helped Clint lie down. “You know I’m not actually a medical doctor, right?” he asked in a last ditch attempt to get out of this before he possibly ruined Clint’s livelihood. “You know I just pretend sometimes?”

“I trust you, Doc,” Clint said.

“Right,” Bruce said, resigned. “Here goes.”

1.

“I’ve been thinking about our mutual friend.”

Though Bruce knew without asking for clarification that Natasha meant the Other Guy, her flippant phrasing left a little something to be desired. “Think he likes you better than he likes me.”

“Can you blame him?”

“Okay, you’re awesome, everyone knows it,” Bruce said, trying not to enjoy Natasha’s tiny, pleased smile as much as he did. 

“Exactly, which is why you’re going to love my idea. Because I’m awesome.”

Bruce had a feeling that he was definitely not going to love whatever Natasha was going to say. “Your idea?”

“Yeah. I was thinking that we need some way of putting the big guy away again.”

“When you’re done with him, you mean?”

Natasha didn’t quite wince, but it was close. “If you want to put it like that, then yeah.”

“I’ve been working with Tony on--”

“I know what you’ve been working with Tony on. That isn’t what I mean. I’m not talking about ways to put him down. I’m not talking about ways to knock him out like an animal.”

She sounded almost angry but Bruce wouldn’t apologize for measures that were necessary. The Other Guy _was_ an animal. Natasha thought of him like her teammate but it wasn’t safe to forget what he truly was. He was dangerous and he couldn’t be relied on, no matter how much he seemed to be helping. “I thought I’d been doing okay on my own, getting back control after missions.”

“You have,” she immediately agreed. “But I thought… It can’t hurt to have some security.”

What Natasha was too nice to say was that someday, someone’s life might depend on how quickly Bruce was able to get the Other Guy under lock and key again. Not a day went by that he didn’t think about that. 

“But mainly I was thinking,” Natasha went on, “you shouldn’t have to do it alone.”

“I don’t follow.”

“You said he likes me,” she said, her mouth curving upwards.

“And?”

“And I think I can use that.”

“How?”

“To calm him down.”

“He isn’t a stray dog,” Bruce said, something that felt like fear gnawing at his insides. What was she suggesting, exactly?

“No, he isn’t. But he feeds on your anger, your rage, your fear. Your emotion. I can help with that.”

A sudden image formed in Bruce’s head, blurry, like something he could only half-remember, or like a memory that wasn’t truly his. Betty, beautiful, smart, brave Betty, pleading with him, looking so small and fragile. Breakable. Bruce rubbed his eyes and banished the image away. It wasn’t his memory; it was the Other Guy’s. “I’m not ever putting you in that position, Natasha. Don’t ask me to.”

“Bruce,” Natasha said, laying her hand on his. “This isn’t only about you; it’s about the team. It’s about what’s best for us and for the people we try to help. I know how much you want to protect everyone from him; this will help. Let me help you do it. Let me be your friend.”

Bruce knew she was manipulating him. She was using her knowledge of him and of how people work to manipulate him because that was what she did; it was what she was good at. Everything, her tone, her words, her expression, her hand on his, all of it a clever ruse to get what she wanted. Bruce knew it, but he also knew that she meant what she said.

“Trust me,” Natasha said. “Trust me, Bruce, and trust yourself enough to try. You can do this. We can do this.”

“So,” Bruce said, and let himself be convinced. “Tell me more about this idea of yours.”

**_End_ **

****


End file.
